o holy night
by Cath1
Summary: Harry has Christmas Eve plans. R/H. Spoilers for up to ep 8.5.


o holy night

Author: Cath

Disclaimer: With Christmas coming up, who knows what might happen. However, they're currently not mine.

Summary: Harry has Christmas Eve plans. R/H. Spoilers for up to ep 8.5.

Notes: I was absolutely overwhelmed by the response to my last fic – really, not sure I can say how appreciative I am – many thanks to all!

Anyway, here's my small Christmas offering. I started writing this about a week ago, and looking on the site today, I realised that there were some overlapping themes with a fic posted by Deskspook – entirely coincidentally, I hasten to add. However, given that the overall theme/plot is quite different, hopefully this is okay to post, but I just wanted to point out that I was aware of the similarities so people don't read this fic and draw the wrong conclusions! Serves me right for taking so long to write! Any comments or concerns, etc, feel free to PM me. And do read Deskspook's lovely fic :-)

As always, I very much hope you enjoy. Feedback is always gratefully received.

XxX

She doesn't forget about their abandoned plans to go for drinks.

From time to time she thinks about asking him again. But the timing never seems quite right, and she needs a reason to ask again and the right moment never seems to present itself.

She's making excuses and she knows it.

She's just afraid and there is no impetus for change.

And then, it's nearly Christmas, and suddenly, that seems like an acceptable reason to try again.

It's a Wednesday; an exceptionally busy Wednesday. But she's made the decision to ask and if she doesn't ask today she might not have the courage again.

She enters his office primarily to give an update on potential suspects for a terrorist attack. She hands him several folders, reels off information and reasons, and then, when she's done, she lingers. He's already returned his focus to work, looking through reams of paper and files.

She watches him briefly, still waiting for the right moment, moving slightly from foot to foot.

"Yes?" he asks, not looking up.

A brief pause. And then, she manages to vocalise the question. "Harry, I was wondering... Christmas Eve, would you like to go for a drink, maybe? If you don't have any plans, that is."

She shields herself with the folders; holding them tight against her, bracing herself for the answer.

He looks up briefly from his work. "I'm sorry Ruth, I already have plans." His words are quick, a dismissal; words without thought in the presence of work-related pressures.

Her face drops in disappointment, but only for a second. She forces a smile on her face. "That's, uh, great." She leaves his office quickly, trying not to feel too disappointed. Now was not the right moment, she berates herself. She tries not to wonder if he's met someone else. If maybe he's tired of waiting for her.

But then, Ros has questions and requests and all thoughts of anything that isn't work are pushed aside.

XxX

Later, he exits his office. He walks in her direction, and leans against her desk, close to her, folding his arms.

He leans in and says quietly, so that others can't hear, "Ruth, earlier, I didn't handle that correctly, did I?"

She is hesitant to respond. "I, uh..."

He gives a brief smile, knowing exactly what she is thinking. "I'd love to go for drinks with you, but I have a prior engagement. Midnight Mass at a church in Cambridge."

She smiles, but is confused; Harry isn't particularly religious as far as she was aware. She wonders why Cambridge? And why has he decided to impart this information now? But at the same time, she's glad to know his reason; glad that he chooses to tell her what he clearly does not wish others to know. "That sounds lovely," she comments with a smile.

He pauses, contemplating something. "You'd be more than welcome to join me. If you want to, that is."

"I, uh..." she's stuck for a response. Midnight Mass? And then, decisively: "I'd love to."

XxX

They arrive at the church shortly after 10.30pm. He'd picked up her at 9pm and at the time she wondered if this might be considered too early a start. She didn't question it, however, but wondered if maybe it was related to the snow and potentially hazardous driving conditions; not that Harry's driving was indicative of such an intention.

They step out of the car and carefully across the icy car park towards the small church.

"Did I need to bring a present?" she asks in confusion, noting the small wrapped package in his hand.

He gives a brief amused smile at her question. "No, Ruth. No presents necessary."

They are early, she realises. The church is nearly empty with exception of the choir and a few likewise-eager congregation members.

He leads her to a pew near the front and she sits beside him. He sits quietly, and she takes the opportunity to glance around, drinking in the atmosphere.

It's an old church, dark and cold. She pulls her scarf a little closer around her neck to ward off the cool air. Soft lights from the Christmas tree and candles bathe the church in a warm glow; unimposing, calming.

She glances over at the choir; they quietly sing 'O Holy Night'.

There's something about the lighting and the choir and the late hour which give a magical, almost ethereal quality. It reminds her of the times she attended Midnight Mass the last couple of years. She'd revelled in the atmosphere of this service, even if she didn't fully take on its meaning.

She looks over at Harry, but his attention is solely focused on the choir. She follows his gaze, and immediately sees him. The young boy, maybe in his early teens now, looks so much like his father; _so_ much like Adam. It's almost a shock to her.

And then, she knows why Harry is here. That he has invited her, too; it almost overwhelms her.

Their hands placed near each other, she stretches out her fingers; touches the back of his hand with her fingers, just lightly. It's an acknowledgment, a gesture of appreciation, support; it's a thousand other words that she wants to say. She's not sure if he senses the connection, but then his fingers move; they entwine with hers. She can't bring herself to look down at them.

Only later does she realise that he doesn't release her hand until after the service is over.

XxX

The service is lovely, although in parts she struggles to remain awake with the late hour.

Afterwards they sit in silence; she, half-asleep; he, waiting for Wes.

Finally, they are rewarded. Harry stands and she follows suit. She stands a little way back, not wanting to involve herself. This is Harry's thing.

"Uncle Harry, you came!" Wes greets them enthusiastically. She doesn't entirely understand how he can have so much energy at such a late hour.

"I said I would," Harry replies. She knows him well enough to tell he is unspeakably pleased by the greeting. "How are you?" he asks eventually.

"Yeah, fine," Wes replies. Neither of them is much given to small talk.

"I have something for you." Harry says. He hands the present over.

"Can I open it?" Wes asks, his eyes wide and eager.

Harry nods.

The paper is quickly discarded. It's a book. She can't read the title, but Wes seems suitably satisfied. "I know it's not a computer game, or DVD, or whatever it is that you're interested in these days," Harry apologises.

Wes opens the book, and she realises that there's an inscription. He reads for a moment, and she can sense that Harry would almost have preferred that Wes had waited until later to do so.

Wes gives Harry a brief smile. It's slightly awkward, but then teenaged boys are rarely good at demonstrating emotion. "It's great. Really."

"You're welcome," Harry replies. He is equally as awkward.

Wes shifts backwards and forwards slightly. "I'd better get going; Grandma and Grandpa are waiting for me."

"It was good to see you again, Wes. Happy Christmas."

"You too, Uncle Harry. See you next year, maybe?"

"Next year."

Wes starts to leave, but then he turns round.

"I got onto the rugby team at school. We're playing a few games, if you wanted to come?" he's hesitant, trying to give the impression that it doesn't matter to him either way.

Harry smiles, "I'd like that."

"Cool. I'll email you about it."

Wes gives brief smile at Ruth and then runs off.

Harry doesn't stop smiling.

XxX

"We've been in contact occasionally through email," Harry says eventually as they drive back towards London. "After Adam... I wanted to do something. Both his parents died on my watch. I felt responsible for him." She doesn't interrupt. "I sent him a Christmas card last year, and told him that he could contact me. I didn't expect anything from it. I didn't even really expect that he'd know who I was. And then, one day, he sent me an email. Atrocious abuse of the English language, took me an hour to figure out what all the abbreviations meant. All this L8r and gr8." He shakes his head, and she's amused and it briefly takes her back to thoughts of Nico. The reminiscence isn't an unpleasant one, but it makes her a little wistful.

"It's good that he has you," she says, trying to shake herself out of her thoughts. She places a hand on his arm briefly to emphasise her meaning. "It's good that you have him."

He smiles, genuinely pleased. But as well as she can read him, he can read her equally as easily.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" he asks.

"I..." she starts and then falters. She'd been trying not to think about it. "I believe Annie is on in the afternoon. And then, obviously, there's Doctor Who. And I might finally try and find out what all the fuss is about Gavin and Stacey," she jokes.

He gives a brief amused laugh. He's contemplative for a second and she wonders what he's about to ask. Or not ask. But then, "Would you like to join me? I've not got any specific plans, I've not even bothered to put decorations up, to be honest. But you'd be more than welcome to join me to watch Annie, Doctor Who and, what was it – Alvin and Tracey?"

She tries not to laugh at his lack of knowledge of current television culture. Or is he just baiting her? She considers the proposition for a moment, but then he continues, this time quieter, more serious.

"I find there's nothing lonelier than spending Christmas alone. Much more pleasant to spend it with someone whose company you enjoy."

She can tell immediately that he's worried he's pushed too far; that he almost wants to retract his last statement and leave it with the previous more jovial message. But she's glad that he said it.

"I'll bring some tinsel," she says eventually. She looks outside in an effort not to see his reaction and for him not to see hers. "After all, you've got to at least make some effort to embrace the Christmas spirit."

He laughs heartily and she knows it's with more than a little bit of relief.

Outside the snow falls. And she finds herself surprisingly looking forward to a real White Christmas.

XxX

Fini

All the best to you all for Christmas.


End file.
